


five years, eight months, twelve days.

by lannisterlegacy



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, Lesbian, Ocean's 8 - Freeform, POV First Person, debbie ocean - Freeform, it's a bit sad too, lou miller - Freeform, they gonna have: the sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 13:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannisterlegacy/pseuds/lannisterlegacy
Summary: This takes place the day they finish all the work on the heist, yet in a universe where Lou failed to visit Debbie in prison.





	five years, eight months, twelve days.

I didn’t know it was going to hurt so much; to hurt her. I now realise that nothing she could have done to hurt me would surpass the pain of knowing what I inflicted on her. I can feel her eyes on me now. Filled with disappointment, and what do I do? I act as if I hadn’t done anything, as if I was innocent. As if I didn’t fail to visit her in prison for the last five years, eight months, and twelve days for pure pride, for pure jealousy of the time she spent with that shmuck. Now that this last heist is finished I know it won't take too long before what I did falls on me. I know how important it was for her to finish this last job, and besides the disagreement on Becker, I know she did what she had to do. The plan was meticulous, calculated, meaningful. It was perfect, and I followed her, as I would always do.

“Debbie, stay. Please.” I asked her. She turned around to look at me, fully aware of what was going through my mind. 

“It’s late, Lou. You know how hard it will be to get home if I don’t go now.” The meaning of her last words were completely lost to me, because as she looked straight into my eyes, I could read her entirely. She would stay, of that, I was certain. 

“You know you can sleep here. Your clothes are here, don’t go. I’ll make us some tea.” I was in the middle of the sentence when she put her purse down and sat on the couch. She didn’t answer me. 

We were both in silence whilst I made the tea. I brought the cups to the table and we just sat there looking at each other for a while, as if we were taking each other in for the first time since Debbie got out of jail. 

As if dropping a bomb on the most silent place on earth, she uttered, “Five years, eight months, twelve days.” She looked at me as if she expected me to make some kind of excuse for myself, but I didn't, I couldn’t. “That’s how long I stayed inside for, which also translates to the time I didn’t see you for. Why? Because you didn’t visit me. Not once.” At this point, she looked down, took the cup in her hand, and sipped some tea. I followed all of her movements, and waited for her to finish. “One letter was all I got.” She chuckled, “One letter. It was a long one, yes, but was it really necessary to ignore my existence for such a long time? I thought you were my partner, but I guess I understand your decisions. I, myself, can be quite proud.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all I could say for myself. I took the cup of tea in my hands, and took a deep and slow breath to try and clear my head. “I couldn’t find courage to face you. Not after hardly seeing you for two years while you were with him”. I said him as if it were the ugliest word in the world. Bitterness still completely noticeable in my voice, but I couldn’t hide it, not from her. “It’s not that I blame you for being with him, I have gotten over that long ago,” I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds and opened them again, “but I was weak. In the beginning I didn’t even know you were in prison in the first place, and then… I didn’t want to face you while knowing that you weren’t with me any longer. I was weak. I was proud. I was wrong. Everyday that went by without seeing you felt wrong,” this last part, I whispered, “yet everyday I grew weaker to go to you.” She put the tea down, got up and walked to the kitchen. Her movements were slow, steady, and assertive, as always. The way I remembered the mannerisms that defined her so well pained me. She opened a bottle of whiskey and poured some in the bottom of a glass and added a couple of rocks, like I knew she would. As she approached the couch she was sitting on once again, I noticed the beer she brought with her on the other hand. For me.  


“Will you forgive me for not visiting you?” I asked, she waited until she was sitting down again, but she was quick to respond.

“You know perfectly that I have already forgiven you, Lou.” The tears were agonisingly threatening to come down, but I didn’t cry, I didn’t want to cry. She was right. I knew perfectly that everything was already forgiven between us.

“I’ll give you time.” I stood up and paced around. Reached the bottle of beer to my mouth and downed about half of it. “We should go to sleep, we’ve had a long day, and you must be devastated.” I stopped behind of where she was sitting and, reluctantly, I put one of my hands on her shoulder. I could feel her breath deepening even before it happened, because so was mine. I left my hand there for another second, and before leaving it I stroked her shoulder once, and downed the rest of my beer before I got to the kitchen to dump it in the trash.

“Five years is a long time.” I listened to Debbie’s heels on the stairs, so I knew she’d be in her room once I came back. I took off my blazer, left it on the kitchen counter and headed upstairs to a different room from the one me and Debbie used to sleep in.

Before getting to bed I stopped by Debbie’s door, which was slightly opened. She was standing by the window, the glass of whiskey still in her hands, refilled, I supposed. The waves of her long brown hair fell lightly down her spine. She was wearing one of my old white shirts, one that she had used so many times it was already hers. It’s the one she likes to sleep in, and she kept it, stole it in the same effortless and charming manner she stole everything else. She drank the rest of her whiskey, tied her hair in a pony tail and went to bed. All I wanted was to sleep beside her again, like before. To just know that the body that I knew so well, that was hers only, was laying next to mine. To know that if I reached my hand, I’d encounter the soft skin that I knew so well. All I wanted was to answer to all my instincts, but I didn’t. Five years is a long time. I need to give her the space, because what should one do in a situation like this? The only answer I can come up with is to wait for our bodies to stop feeling the pain, the guilt; wait for answers to come to us.

I laid in bed and the word guilt seemed to have carved itself on my mind with no intention of leaving. I remembered the time Debbie was in prison and I was distracting myself from my mistakes with anything and anyone that appeared in front of me. I don’t know for whom I did it for because for me it certainly was not. In the midst of my thoughts and old pictures of Debbie, I fell asleep and dreamt of her, who else was there to dream about?

**Author's Note:**

> hello everybody. let me know if you enjoyed it,
> 
> thank you, and have a beautiful day!


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